


Love Games

by LadyFangs



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-19 10:24:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11311425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyFangs/pseuds/LadyFangs
Summary: It's how they maintain and strengthen their bond. It's how they repair it when it breaks, and most of the time, it's really, really fun.A series of short scenes with Ragnar and Lagertha as they explore the language of love, in all it's many...tongues. :)(Stories set to songs)





	1. First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He gets to be first. It's a privilege, an honor he takes seriously. It's trust. The foundation on which they build.

**First**

**(D’Angelo- Untitled)**

 

“Wait.”

He’s sooo close, almost there when he hears her commandment. He waits, kissing her again, taking his time to nuzzle her gently, affectionately, until she begins to relax again under his body.

He moves to go back, but hears her stop breathing, and it stills him again.

“What is wrong?” There’s fear in her eyes, something he’s never seen, and it worries him.

“I’ve never done this before.” It’s low and faint, almost a whisper, but it stirs something deep in him. Protective. Territorial.

He gets to be the first.

“Do you trust me?” He moves back down to her breasts, taking one in his mouth to suck lightly and continues his way back down. The feel of lips on her belly makes her arch into his touch; When she feels his tongue on her clit she gasps, but he’s wrapped his arms around her waist and is holding her down as his tongue and his mouth begin to suck and probe, and slip inside.

She finds herself moving against his head as he does this, makes love to her with his mouth and when he finally comes back up, she’s shuddering from the loss.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again as her arms wrap around his shoulders and when she looks into his eyes, so full of love, she has her answer.

“Yes.”

She exhales as he enters her and tries to breathe when he touches the barrier. She gasps and winces when he gently breaks through, and there's a pinch on the inside. They lay still for a moment as she tries to understand this new feeling, of being opened, widened. He pushes against her body and she can feel him moving inside her and its uncomfortable. But he’s going slow, and she’s clinging to him, letting him guide their movements.

“How does it feel?” He whispers. _  
_

Gradually, she  begins to adjust and she can tell that he’s holding back just for her, not going all the way in, and it makes her love him that much more. She watches his face as he climaxes and it seems as if he’s trapped between pleasure and pain. She marvels that her body can make him feel that way.

 And when he finally comes back down from wherever he has been he looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed. Has she done something wrong?

“No,” he says kissing her lips.

“I have.”

She doesn’t understand.

He slides his hand down her body and slips his index finger inside while another begins to massage her clit, and she starts to moan. Loudly. And when it finally hits, it’s sudden and she’s not prepared for the tremors that wrack her body, or the feeling of intense pleasure that pulses between her legs. She hears someone scream but it sounds far away…and when she comes back down, she realizes it was her.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Ride

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He likes the way she rides...

**Ride**

**(Ciara: Ride)**

 

“Ahhhh….”

Whatever she’s doing on top of him, it’s working.  

Left hip. Right hip.

She puts her back into it.

And every time he tries to open his eyes to get a look his body gets caught in another pleasure wave. His wife is on top, and she’s moving in a way that reminds him of a snake—long and slow, graceful and elegant, coiled—all restrained power and passion.

He’s praying to Balter for control because he as absolutely none at this point.

 “Ungh…”

He grips her hips to try and get some sort of stability as she undulates above him, a roll that starts at the top of her head and down her body and inside her and straight into his gut. He feels her heat spread through his body making every part of him sensitive to every sensation, every touch, every breath.

“Ooh…”

Yes, every sound belongs to him and she’s forcing them from his mouth with her body.  

She’s switched it up and is slowly grinding him into the bed with her hips and he’s absolutely hypnotized by her movements as she smiles down at him sweetly and leans in close raising her hips until just his tip is inside her…

He whimpers.

Fucking whimpers…like a bitch.

She lifts up completely and the cold air hits and he shudders and has to turn his head away from her. She’s deliberately torturing him, teasing him…does she want him to beg?

He is not above begging…

“What do you want, my love…” She whispers against his neck the air tickling his skin stimulating him all over as his fists grip the furs…

“Please…” it’s deep and raspy, but she complies, but only to a certain point—slipping in the tip alone as she rides it and he feels like he is dying…

She’s got control over her muscles and they clench around him, pulsing against him milking him and ….

He’s about come when she slides back down and begins to move back and forth and round and round, and back and forth and round and—

“AHHHHHHH!”

It’s his turn to yell as he comes and he tries to still her movements, but his body feels weak and she won’t let him down… she keeps going, and going, and going….

This must be what it’s like to lay with the goddesses.

 


	3. Blow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He comes home with gifts...

**Blow**

**(Janet Jackson- Rope Burn)**

He arrives home with a gift from England.

“What are these?” She asks, fingering the small, white beads held together delicately on a string.

“They are called pearls.”

Pearls. A pearl necklace.

The beads are smooth, almost translucent. They remind her of her husband.

The way his skin tastes.

The way his mouth tastes.

The way his tongue tastes.

The way his _seed_ tastes…

“Are the ropes necessary?” He eyes her nervously as he lays on his back on their bed and she hovers over him, still fingering the pearls slowly in one hand, while the other holds a few ropes.

“mmm hmmmm…”

It’s the way she says it that makes him hesitate. There’s something in her voice, he can see her smiling through the darkness.

“Do they have to be so tight?”

He’s not used to this. It’s…unnerving. He’s naked. Bound. Blindfolded.

Laughter, light, sensual.

“Yes.”

_What is she about to—_

“ohhh…”

Now he gets the ropes.

When her lips touch his tip it makes him jump.

When her mouth wraps around him, it makes him moan.

When her tongue slides down his shaft he thinks he’s about to come.

When her teeth graze the skin he starts to struggle against the bindings.

And when she fits all of him between her lips and sucks him down her throat he cums…

In her mouth.

_Ragnar…_

It sounds distant. Far away.

Ragnar…

Closer, yet still out of reach.

“Ragnar?”

He must have passed out momentarily.

The blindfold comes off. And she’s looking at him, worried.

“Are you okay?”

“Will you untie me?

She does. And when she does, he kisses her, and tastes himself.

“mmm.... _Ragnar_ ….”

_Gods when she says his name…_

“My lips hurt.”

He takes a good long look at her, naked above him, save for the pearl necklace, and promptly turns her on her back. Legs spread.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. These will get raunchier. But hey, that's what marriage is for, right?


	4. Corruption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a new member in their household...Athelstan intrigues them, so they explore him.

**Corruption**

**(Prince- Darling Nikki)**

 

The first time he saw a woman naked it was like a vision from heaven.

The first time he saw a naked man it terrified him.

Or rather, what was between that man’s legs terrified him.

It was…different. Very large, and thick. Bigger than his own and when it wasn’t erect, it was…covered. Hooded.

“No” was easy to say the first time.

It was not as easy the second.

And the third time _they_ wouldn’t take “no” for an answer.

So he said yes.

Whispered it really, unsure of what he had agreed to, but knowing that it would be impossible to continue to ignore them, to pretend that his body was not responding to the sounds they made, to their nudity and to their intensity.

 “Don’t be afraid,” she’d said once he agreed to come to them. “Come here, _he_ won’t bite.”

But _he_ was grinning, wide and predatory...with teeth.

The feel of her fingers caressing his robes made him tremble, and when she removed them he was completely naked and wanted to hide.

But she coaxed him, told him to lay down and just watch.

“This is how you love a woman, priest,” Ragnar had said, standing behind his wife and pulling her against him, his chest to her back. She had let the covers fall from her body and Athelstan watched as Ragnar kissed her neck, his hand sliding between her legs to finger her pussy as he entered her from behind.

Athelstan clutched his rosary tighter as they sexed in front of him torn between salvation and damnation. They were beautiful. Their images began to blur as he closed his eyes, daring to imagine that for once, he was somewhere in the middle of them.

He felt the bed shift underneath him with the addition of more weight and when he’d opened his eyes, they were there, next to him. She was bent over, her husband still inside her thrusting slow, and deeply. The moans made him feel drunk, as if in a dream.

“Do you trust us?” She asked through soft, quiet pants.

Two sets of blue eyes looking at his brown ones.

“Yes.”

“Lay back.”

He did as they asked.

“Close your eyes, priest,” Lagertha whispers to him.

He did.

It is the first time he had been touched in this way. And by a man, at that.

Athelstan gasps and tenses as Ragnar’s large hand wraps around him and begins to stroke him. The feeling is….

He groans as his master and his wife take control of his pleasure.

It’s a mind fuck.

He cannot decide what is more stimulating, the feeling of Ragnar’s rough hands on his body or the image of the two of them inside each other that’s dancing around in his mind.

“Now, use your own hand.”

And he does, stroking himself in tandem as they change positions and Lagertha rolls onto her back and Ragnar comes to lay on top of her.

He matches the rhythm they set, and when they come, he does too—and he feels as if he’s caught somewhere between heaven and hell, and its closer to heaven so he goes with it…

Athelstan cannot tell whether the groans he hears come from his mouth of theirs.

It all blends together.


	5. Dirty/Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes trust to be so dirty...

**Motivation**

**(Kelly Rowland, Motivation)**

 

Marriage grants them the ability to do what they want, when they want, how they want, with each other. There are no boundaries they won't push. They like to test each other's limits...

“I want to try something new.” he whispers in her ear. She’s pressed against a wall, her husband against her back, and they’re both covered in sweat.

“Ok,” she whispers…anything really to get him to go back in. He gets to his knees and she turns to look but he shakes his head as he spreads her legs further apart. His hands are on her ass, and as he opens her and the coolness of the air makes her flinch. She jumps and tries to wiggle away when she feels his tongue in a place it has no business being.

She gasps his name, as he gets up and presses back against her.

“Trust me.”

She’s nervous now, but she does as her husband says and sure enough when she feels his tongue there again it makes her moan and her legs start to tremble. He makes one long pass from her lower back, between her cheeks and slips his tongue inside her pussy and she damn near falls over. The wall is the only thing holding her up. She leans against it, trying to catch her breath as Ragnar stands up again and presses himself against her, his cock slipping between her legs, the skin rubbing against her clit.

Her head is back and she’s panting as he continues to do this, making her desperate to feel him inside her, and when he finally goes in, he laces his hands between hers and braces their bodies against the wall.

“You’re so wet.” His breath is hot against her neck. He slides out again and the loss makes her whimper—actually whimper. But her husband is far from done.

 Ragnar kisses her neck keeping her pinned, one hand massaging her breasts while the other gripping himself. He slides between her legs again but further back this time, feeling the place he wants to go. He feels her tense again.

“Do you trust me?” He asks waiting, asking for permission.

“Yes…” it’s soft, faint—she’s afraid but turned on at the same time.

It’s his green light to use his finger to probe her gently, using her own juices to ease his path. He pushes against her opening with just the tip.

“Try to relax, my love.”

She’s biting her lip, her eyes shut tight. He slips an arm around her lower waist to finger her as he pushes gently. When the head pops in she cries out.

“Shhh…”

His movements are slow, as gentle and gradually, he gets all the way in.

She’s breathing hard and so is he as he takes his time marveling at this new discovery.

She won’t lie. It hurt at first but now…

“More…” He doesn’t think he heard her right….

“More…” Oh yes…his hearing is perfect.

“Are you sure?” It may be too much, too soon, and he doesn’t want to hurt her.

“Yes.” Another green light.

So he gives her more…fingering her and massaging her breast at the time.

Gives them more…trying to stave off his inevitable climax…

Until her body is spasming uncontrollably triggering his own explosion and they both slump to the floor. 

He recovers.

“Don’t--” she pushes his hand away when he rolls over to kiss her. She’s still twitching, and breathing hard, and he smiles a  wicked smile.

“O-o-over st-sti-stimulation,” she tries to explain. He gets it. He grabs her with both arms and rolls her on top of him. She’s straddling his lap, her hair in his face. And she starts trembling hard again, moaning.

_Damn. It’s a rolling orgasm._

His dick is wet from her juices, and she starts grinding herself against his thigh as she cums again.

“I can’t feel my legs…” she pants.

He marvels with pride at his handiwork, pretty sure he just set a record.

He knows she’s going to kill him in the morning, but if she does, he will die a happy man.

They’re at Uppsala, their holy site. And its dark and quiet in the hall of the gods, save for them.

Ragnar looks up at the “wall” they’ve been using, the base of Thor’s hammer. He sends up a quick word of thanks to the god of thunder for making it rain, smiling with intense satisfaction. He’s discovered a new place tonight…a backdoor entrance to the pleasures of love with his wife.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crap. This was supposed to be Chapter 5... enjoy and it will slide back in the right position later on.


	6. Taste

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She won't come back...even if he begs. Some things are unforgivable.

**Taste**

**(Rhianna-Cockiness)**

 “He misses you," Siggy tells her once she's settled by the fire.

“I doubt it.”

“He’s not been the same since you left," Rollo adds.

“How can you tell?” An exchange of looks.

Siggy whispers into her ear… “He’s never gone down on _her,_ she's frustrated."

A flash of heat. Moisture. She crosses her legs.

There's a knock at the door.

 _He_ arrives, and they leave. 

 "What do you want, Ragnar?"

“I wanted to see you.”

 “Get on your knees.”

He obeys.

A rustling of fabric, a fallen dress.

Hungry eyes gaze longingly at the place between her thighs.

“Tell me what you want.”

“To taste you.”

“Ask nicely. _Beg_.”

“ _PLEASE….”_ He asks nicely. He begs.

He has a _thick_ tongue.

A long tongue, curved at the tip.

He knows how to go deep. It _feels_ like a cock.

Slow circles.

A soft blow to her clit.

“Ohhh…”

A slow grind against his face.

 Whiskers scratching against her skin. A hitch… heavy breathing. She pulls back.

“Why did you stop?”

“Lay down. Take off your clothes.”

Change positions. Climb on his face.

“Don't touch me. Only your mouth.”

Compliance.

And start again. Riding. She uses his hair as a grip.

_I love it when you eat it....  
_

 Lewdness.

“Touch yourself," she directs. "Come for me.”

He does. She does too.

Relief.

His beard is wet. He licks his lips.

 “Stay with me?”

She laughs. Low, and bitter. Angry.

“Go home to your _wife._ ”

 

 

 


	7. Knees and Toes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aslaug has a question...why doesn't her husband face her during sex?

Knees and Toes

**(Rhianna, Needed Me)**

 

Face down. Ass up.

It’s how they fuck.

That’s the always been—even in the beginning, when he slipped inside her from the back.

The sex has been good. Really good. Great in fact—he’s the best she’s ever had, though admittedly, there have only been a few. One really, before him.

She likes the feel of it, the weight of it, the curve of Ragnar Lothbrok’s cock. And it hits in just the right places and spaces that make her wet just thinking about it.

He’s always brushing up against her back, and he can feel him rising when he presses against her.

And he’s not afraid to fuck her—Ragnar Lothbrok? Afraid of anything? Laughable.

So she’s never asked the question, though she’s thought about it many times…

Why doesn’t her husband face her during sex?

Maybe that’s just the way he likes it. Maybe it’s something she shouldn’t take personally.

Until he invites his ex-wife into their bed. And she gets to see how _they_ fuck.

Up close. Personal. Face-to-face, mouth-to-ass, mouth-to-pussy…really, his mouth is everywhere on Lagertha’s body.

Aslaug remembers the night he came home late with pussy on his breath and she remembers the night he didn’t come home at all. Now she knows the truth of it…and she really doesn’t know what to think.

They go hard on each other, and she can’t tell whether they’re fighting or fucking or something in-between. It’s likely all three. She tries to join with them again, wanting him to do the same things to her, and they try to make room, but it’s no use—she’s slowly being left out, with nothing but a spare touch here, a stray kiss there. They are of a single mind in this endeavor. And it no longer includes her.

His ex-wife rides him, makes him shout her name when he comes and smiles as if she’s won the battle between them. And when he’s on top, he completely loses control, his thrusts powerful and urgent and wild between his ex-wife’s thighs. It’s beastial. Savage.

Fuck the white horse and the carriage.

 She sees it all.

Ragnar has never been this way with her. She knows she couldn’t handle it if he was. It looks painful. But Lagertha looks as if she loves it.

And there’s the truth.

That _this_ is what he prefers, and with her he’s just settling. Accepting his fate.

In the morning they’re still going, thinking she’s asleep.

He’s on his ex-wife again, this time slow, and gentle, more intense though, and still urgent. They’re testing each other to see which will break first. It’s a brutal love game. They’re not fighting though. Or fucking. Aslaug can tell this is how they are when they make love.

What he says to Lagertha makes her heart stop. His whispered words of promise and of passion, of togetherness of…love.

“I love you…” Is what he says, and Aslaug is stunned when she hears Lagertha’s reply:

“I know.”

The warrior neither affirms nor denies her ex-husband’s confession. It’s not rejection, but it’s nearly as worse.  How can she be so bold? So brazen. So…confident?

The answer comes with alarming clarity.

Lagertha had been the one to walk away. Ragnar had been the one to beg.

Lagertha had come to save them. Ragnar had been the one in need.

Ragnar needs Lagertha. She doesn’t need him. She’s never needed him, but he’s always and continues, to need her.

Aslaug sees another truth—that one of them is weaker than the other. Ragnar is on the losing end, and binded to him in marriage, so is she.

It is Lagertha who has the real power. 

She’s just letting them play with it temporarily.

The two women lock eyes as Lagertha begins to orgasm, a slow smile spreading across her face. Her eyes are telling Aslaug something…

_Watch…and learn._

_This is my superpower._


	8. Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger was her excuse the first time. Jealously, resentment and revenge caused the second one. But now they’re no longer mad at each other. And there is no excuse this time. Just opportunity.
> 
> He isn't giving up on them yet.

**Slow**

**(Floetry-Say Yes)**

 

Time has not healed the wound.

Distance has not repaired the break.

He had thought when she came back he could fight it. Keep it down. Ignore it. But she would not allow him to do so.

He had thought he could play it off, pretend he didn’t care, that it was over and he was doing fine. But she saw right through it.

She always saw through it. She was the only one. Not even his new wife knew. Nor his brother. Nor his friends. Nor his son. Only her. Only ever her.

Absence has not made the heart grow stronger.

Distance has not made the mind forget.

 She had believed she was strong enough to face him again. To accept the now and ignore what had been.

She had chosen to go forward. For her son, she’d told herself. Only for her son. But he saw right through it. He was the only one. Not his wife, nor his new kids, nor her own son. Only him. 

Anger was her excuse the first time. Jealously and resentment and a need for revenge caused the second one. But now they’re no longer mad at each other. And there is no excuse this time. Just opportunity.

It was Torstein who facilitated it—acting as the go-between, always discreet, giving Ragnar the key to his house without being asked and directing him to go there.  It was Torstein who spoke to Lagertha in coded language only she would understand, delivering a message meant for her ears only. And it is at Torstein’s house that they meet in the middle of the night, truly alone for the first time in years.

Ragnar lays her down on the bed before coming to rest on top of her. She can feel his heart racing through his robe, and she gathers the fabric in her hands pulling it up and over head to take it off so she can place her hands on his chest and feel his heartbeat.

He is hard lines and graceful angles, solid and sure.

Gods, how she loves this man…

The sensation of his lips on hers makes her skin tingle—it is gentle, and slow. She kisses him back softly as he begins to undress her, arching her hips and back as the fabric climbs up her skin and finally over her head.

Ragnar looks down her body, taking in the soft lines and smooth curves. She looks so vulnerable and open in this moment. It is as if they are about to make love for the first time. And it comes to him, a vision so strong it makes his heart clench to remember that day. How nervous she was, soft and open to him. He remembers what it was like, that first time, and he still feels that same sense of protectiveness over her. The sudden surge of emotion almost overwhelms him as he looks into her eyes and kisses her lips.

Gods does he love this woman…

They move in sync, their bodies slipping into familiar positions, her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck…

“Say yes…”

He wants her permission. He does not want to assume anything. He wants to hear her say it. To allow him to love her as much and as fully as he can with the time they’ve stolen.

“Yes.”

When he enters her it’s overwhelming and he has to stop in order to keep himself from coming too soon.

When he draws out of her and goes back in she bites her bottom lip, struggling to find a center, an anchor to keep her from drowning. He has just started, but she can already feel her orgasm beginning to build. Her feet are tingling, her legs are shaking and there’s so much heat and throbbing between her legs that the end is imminent. But what’s threatening to shatter her into pieces is the ache in her chest which grows and grows the deeper he probes.

It aches for him too...he feels as if he may combust at any moment and he is fighting with everything he has to maintain control, but it is slipping… it feels as if his heart will burst from his chest and he knows the end is near…he gives her what he has, what he is, and as he moves against her he thinks maybe there’s a chance, a way to repair everything, rebuild it—give her what she wants, what they want...he can fix this…he will fix this, he’s not given up on them yet.

The tears she has restrained for years are starting to flow, and she can’t control it, and when she looks into his face and sees what’s written across it, it begins to break her.

She knows what he wants—what he’s trying to do, to create in her right now, and she knows it won’t work. It hasn’t worked for them. But this is how they made Bjorn. And how they made Gyda. And how they’d made their stillborn son, and he’s trying again.

The damn bursts, and a choked sob escapes her lips, and another, and another. She is quaking, her orgasm so intense she doesn’t realize that she has him stuck inside her, and he becomes helpless as her sex pulses against his own to the to the point that he finally loses it, and cums so hard he cries out, burying his head in her shoulder as his body convulses around hers.

 It is powerful, and intimate, and they stay like that clinging together for fear of letting go. Even in their marriage they had never felt so naked, so raw. They are stripped bare for each other only.

After a long while, his breathing returns to normal and hers too. Their heartbeats fall into sync. Ragnar turns his face to let his forehead come to rest on hers, and their noses touch. Lips meet in a soft kiss.

 “I’ve missed you.”


	9. Requiem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What if she would have stayed?
> 
> And excerpt from the upcoming sequel to "Many Waters."

**Requiem**

**(Janelle Monae-Primetime)**

 

Somewhere along this life, they’ve gotten old.

He knows he looks it. At 52 he should have died a long time ago. But _she_ kept him living. She never gave up on him. Never gave up on _them_.

 Somehow, they made it.

It is impossible…all because he made a different choice this time. He got her to stay.

“Forgive the sentimentality of an old man,” he says when she settles next to him on the bed.

“You are always forgiven, Ragnar Lothbrok.”

He turns and kisses her, longingly, deeply. She pulls away and lifts her hand to the side of his face, her fingers tracing the scar above his eyes, and studies him. Ragnar fingers the gold cross that hangs around his neck.

“What are you telling me?”

There’s a hitch in her voice as she searches his eyes and when she sees the truth, her own begin to fill with tears. They kiss again, and slowly their clothes fall to the floor, and when he lays her down across the bed, he takes his time, marking each crest and valley, every peak and fall on her body. She has her own scars too, light and faded and he caresses each one before coming to rest his head between her legs.

He is a fire the world has not been able to tame. Yet has always found peace within her, beside her. As he tastes her she begins to moan, and he knows this is the image he will take with him to Valhalla.

Ragnar worships at the alter of Lagertha’s body, and he communes in the flavor of his wife’s flesh. His testimony rings through her and they cry out in praise together.

This will be the last time.

He is a son of Odin and she is the daughter of Frigg. They come close to touching the faces of the gods.

 

 


	10. Freak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ragnar and Lagertha are actors...and he's been trying to have sex with her for four years. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Blame the 2016/2015 ComicCon panel).

**Freak**

**(Adina Howard, “Freak Like Me”)**

Requested by Aphrodite's Tea

 

 

He likes to talk dirty in public. But only when there’s a large audience. And only when she’s there with him. Like now. In the middle of panel for “Sheildmaiden’s Tale.”

He’s been drinking. Audience question time.

 “Will Valdemar and Shreya ever be back together again?”

“Relax she’s got the clap.”

 “He has a small penis…”

 “At least it speaks French, the little guy.” A hot stare. A dirty grin.  A round of cheers.

“Stop it,” she whispers to him.

They’re seated at a long table draped in a skirt. No one can see his hand slowly creeping up her thigh.

Another question.

“Ragnar, you had to deal with some serious addiction issues and I was curious if you had to do any studying to get acclimated to that role this season.”

The rest of the cast snickers while he fumbles around for an answer. “What are all you guys doing in my bedroom?” He’s getting progressively drunker. The moderator steps in.

“Those scenes are tough to watch, to see a character that strong descent into dependency. Was it tough to shoot them?”

“No, not really.”

“Ragnar doesn’t experiment with drugs just Viagra,” Bjorn chimes in. They share a group laugh at his expense.

She tries to stop it. “Guys, there are children here.”

He looks at her. “How do you think I get up in the morning?”

It keeps going like this.

Another day, another panel. This time though, he hasn’t been drinking.

He pulls her chair out for her. The women in the crowd ooh and aww…

He’s behaving.

“Don’t let that fool you,” she says into the mic.

Until he isn’t.

“That’s what one night of passion gets you,” he retorts. The audience laughs. She cuts her eyes at him.

Later, they all go back to the hotel. It’s nearly 2 a.m. when there’s a knock at her door, and then a key slides in.

He enters.

“You’re incorrigible,” she tells him as he kicks off his shoes, and unbuttons his shirt. He takes it off, then comes to stand in front of her.

“But you like it. Don’t lie.”

She’s dressed in one of his t-shirts. He pulls it off and kisses her. Her face, her neck, her shoulders. He goes down until he’s on his knees, face between her legs.

 It’s their secret. No one knows for sure, but the rest of the cast suspects.

They back up to the bed, and when he comes back up, she’s ready for him. Lagertha pushes him down and gets to her knees. He can’t move. Her mouth is on him. Wrapped around his cock and she’s in the process of taking him down her throat. His hands grip the sheets and he groans. She ignores him, taking what she wants.

FUCK…

“I’m about to--”

The last word gets lost. He watches her come back up, and promptly swallow, a devilish grin on her face.  He kisses her, tasting himself.

This is far from over.

They both share the same predilections. They like their sex the same way. He grabs her, turns her around on her stomach, and goes back down, his tongue in her ass now. It’s where he stays until her legs start to tremble. She comes on his face. He licks his lips.

 “Tell me what you want me to do.” He likes it when she orders him around. When she pulls him close. When she rakes her fingernails down his back and grabs his ass.

She likes it when he talks dirty into her ear. Like what he’s doing right now.

“You love it when I fuck you.”

Yep. She does.

“You like it when I finger you.”

Even better.

“You like it when I taste you.”

Mmm hmm…

Ragnar's voice drops several octaves...he growls the last words directly into her ear.

He’s already balls deep, hitting a place that’s making her more wet, and more wanting. She pushes him off and turns around to climb on top. They restart.

He likes it when she talks dirty in his ear. Like what she’s doing right now.

“You love it when I fuck you.”

Yep. He does.

“You like it when I suck you.”

Even better.

“You like it when I won’t let you…”

Waiting is the best part…

Lagertha breathes the last few words directly in his ear--heady and filled with lust.

He didn’t think she’d take him up on it. But he's not about to wait for any sort of reconsideration.

“I’ll be good. I promise.” He grins and pulls out. She turns around for him. Reverse cowgirl. She lays back against his chest. His fingers slide between her legs. They adjust. He groans as he reenters, something far tighter. She moans.

“Relax,” his playing with her pussy.

She does. He gets the head in. He lets her dictate. He continues making her wet as she moves them and  guides them.

He’s breathing hard as she takes him deeper, deeper…and begins to slowly ride him…

“Do you like it?”

_OOHHHH….._

“Do you want it, baby?”

_Ahhhh…_

“Do you need it?”

_Yess…_

“What do you want me to do?”

_Fuck me…_

And they go. And he does. She takes him, rides him like Wanker—his 15 year-old quarter horse. She rides him until he nuts inside her. She leaves him speechless and winded. Like he just ran a marathon. Like he just skydived with no oxygen. Like he got punched by Tyson, sacked by Vince Beasley.

He’s an atheist…but yet he cries out to God.

“Can we do this again?” He’s finally come down. So has she, and she’s curled up against him, her legs entangled in his.

“No.”

He frowns. Disappointed.

“Why not?”

“You’re not ready to settle down. And I’m still mad at you for leaving me.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You know what I mean.”

She’s still mad he’s leaving the show. It’s what made her finally break down and say yes the first time, after he’d begged her for four years.

She hadn’t taken him seriously. Hell, he hadn’t taken himself seriously. It had started innocently. A little flirting to cover up his natural shyness. And when flirting failed, pranks. At least that made her laugh. But pranking got old, and he went back to flirting, only this time, he was more physical with it. On screen, and off. Lagertha had resisted him. Rebuffed him. And he hadn’t helped his case when she walked in on him while he had an extra bent over one of his dressing room tables.

“I knew you weren’t serious,” she’d said, crossing her arms and watching in amusement while the girl he was presently inside of scrambled up and ran away. He’d just stood there like an idiot.

Oops.

But the day he came in and told her that it would be his final season was the day she gave in. He still remembers that. How she stayed late, and came back with him to his cabin on the lake. How they didn’t speak, just sexed. Sexed until they fucked, fucked until they made love. Made love until they fell asleep and had to return to set the next morning. That was six months ago. She has never come back to his cabin. She hasn’t let him touch her…until tonight.

 She did this on purpose, gave him a key. She knows he leaves tomorrow to start work on his new movie. And he also knows she’s right—about the settling down thing.

 “Are _you_ ready to settle down?” Ragnar looks down at the gorgeous woman in his arms. He knows damn well he’s fighting above his weight class with this one.

 “It doesn’t matter what I’m ready for. You’re not it.”

“What if I could be…it?”

She laughs at him and rolls away, heading to the bathroom.

“Where are you going?”

“To shower. You make a mess.”

Yeah. He did. But he knows she loved it. He loved it too.

Maybe, when he comes back, they can do it again. And this time he’ll make a mess inside her.

He may not be ready to settle down. But if she calls him, he will come.

 

 

 


End file.
